


Break the Cycle

by anditwasallpink



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, Meeting the Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 17:44:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19067518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anditwasallpink/pseuds/anditwasallpink
Summary: This isn’t how Draco expected his life to be, but it’s one that feels authentic, and that’s all he can ask for.Or, a meet the parents Christmas AU.





	Break the Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> I have never collaborated with other people when writing a fic before and boy, was it a ride! Thank you to tumblr users singsongwintersong (who has discontinued their account as of publishing date) and in-love-and-liberty !!! You both taught me a lot about writing and I'm endlessly grateful.

Draco doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that Harry is staring at him. Draco’s body is attuned to everything Harry Potter to the point that he can tell that Harry slept peacefully, is happy, and knows Draco is awake too. 

“Good morning, love,” Harry says softly. Draco even knows what smile Harry has on his face. It’s the one that takes up over half of his face and makes his eyes squint, crinkles forming around them.

“Good morning,” Draco replies as he opens his eyes, “What are you thinking about?”

Harry pauses and wrinkles his nose. It’s a thing he does when he’s afraid to tell Draco something. Obviously trying to buy time and ask for forgiveness beforehand, he kisses Draco’s forehead. When he pulls back, he looks at Draco intently, “I want you to meet my parents.”

Draco inhales sharply. “Why would you…Why? We said we weren’t going to tell our parents because they would hate it. Malfoys and Potters don’t get along. We knew this going into it. They aren’t going to like me.” He feels like he’s been slammed in the stomach with bricks, throat constricting like it’s trying to get the water he’s drowning in out of his body. This is his worst fear. Harry’s always been so close to his parents and Draco knows this is the first time he’s ever had to keep something from them. 

“Draco, breathe. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Harry’s face is calm, but Draco knows him in and out, has seen him flipped inside out, and studied him. Draco knows this isn’t what Harry wants. 

“But if you’re asking for this then you want it. You clearly want it.” Draco’s voice sounds frantic to his own ears. He can only imagine how he looks. 

“Of course, I want it. Is that really so bad? I want to tell everyone how in love with you I am, and I want to talk about you to my parents and the rest of my family. I want you to spend Christmas with me. But it is ultimately something that we both have to decide and so if you don’t want it, it isn’t going to happen.”

Draco is struck by how soothing Harry’s voice is and how calm he looks. Draco simultaneously wants to melt into him and strangle him. “You want me to spend Christmas at your house?”  
Harry nods. 

Just like that, Draco’s decided. He has no other choice when Harry’s looking at him like that, eyes bright and hyper-focused on him. The idea of spending Christmas with Harry is so enticing that he lets himself drop his defenses and finally admits that he will have to meet Harry’s family if he wants to continue this relationship. Family is important to the Potters, he knows that, and he can’t ask Harry to keep sacrificing that. 

Somehow his decision must show on his face because immediately Harry’s face lights up like it had earlier on. Harry kicks the blankets off his legs, straddles Draco, and then peppers kisses on every inch of Draco he can, giggling in between kisses.

“Harry, come ‘ere.” Draco requests, pouting his lips for kisses that Harry gives so willingly. It’s slow and sweet, lasting until Draco becomes dizzy. 

“I’m going to write them today to start preparing them,” Harry says as he pulls away, sliding his body back a little to lay his head underneath Draco’s chin. His whole body is flat on Draco’s. 

“Shit, I’m going to have to do the same, aren’t I?” Draco wrinkles his nose up at Harry. It doesn’t faze him too much to tell his parents – meeting the Potters is what worries him. Telling his own parents isn’t going to be the easiest. There will be a lot of insulting the Potter family from his father and pouting that he won’t be home the whole Christmas break from his mother, but it’s worth it if it makes Harry look at him like that, like Draco’s just given him the greatest gift he could give him for Christmas. 

“Your father will probably be at the Ministry insisting that I’ve kidnapped or murdered you come Christmas break if you don’t.”

Draco groans. “You say that jokingly, but you know what he’s like. He wants so badly to disgrace the Potter name. I’m not going to be able to spend the whole break with you.”

“Can I make recommendations for what days you spend with me?” Harry asks, lifting his head up to look at Draco. 

“Go right ahead.” 

“I want to wake up Christmas morning with you in my bed. And I want you New Year’s Eve and Day. I want to be selfish and ask you to stay from the beginning of break until New Year’s Day, but then you would be spending over half of the break with me and I feel like that’s selfish.” 

Draco kisses him softly but quickly. “Be selfish,” he says.  
-

The plan is for Draco to go home from the Hogwarts Express and stay at the Manor until after his family eats Christmas Eve dinner. He’ll stay at Harry’s until sometime in the afternoon on New Year’s Day; then spend the remainder of the holiday with his parents. Draco ignores the little voice in his head that says this will only happen if Harry’s parents don’t react like how his nightmares tell him they will.

Before dinner Draco writes a letter to his mother. 

Mother,  
I am looking forward to Holiday. I have made plans to spend from after dinner on Christmas Eve to sometime in the afternoon on New Year’s Day with Harry Potter at his family house. 

I know this message has probably been shocking to you. Harry Potter and I are great friends. We formed a tentative relationship last year and have only grown closer. I am very fond of him.  
Your son,  
Draco  
-

The letter he receives back from his mother is short, a simple, “We will talk about this at home.” Draco knows that the only thing that kept her from sending a Howler is her desperate need to maintain a proper public image. 

There are two more days until the holiday starts and Draco plans to use that time to mentally prepare himself to admit that he’s in a relationship with Harry Potter: to Harry’s parents and his own. His mind wanders all day to what those moments will be like. He can’t help feeling like this is a disastrous idea, that Harry’s rushing things, but he wants to please Harry.

Draco can feel Harry watching him across the Great Hall, so he looks up and sees Harry staring while bringing a stuffed mushroom to his mouth. Draco gives him a faint smile and then stabs a mushroom on his own plate with his fork. 

“Did you have to stab that poor mushroom that hard?” The Nott family are stricter on dining etiquette than anyone Draco has ever met. 

“I didn’t stab it any differently than usual, Theodore.” 

“Look at that, he used Theodore instead of Theo. He must be truly furious,” Blaise sneers.

Draco rolls his eyes and doesn’t reply.

Just then Pansy sits down across from him, the smell of cigarette smoke and sage following her. She kicks Draco in the shin and says, “Why did I have to overhear Granger and Weasley whispering to find out that you’re meeting the in-laws over the holidays?”

Draco hears Vincent ask Greg who he’s married to. 

“I’m not married to anyone, Crabbe,” Draco splutters.

Pansy rolls her eyes and says, “What day will you meet Harry’s parents?”

“Christmas Eve. He wants me to stay until New Year’s Day.”

“You’re clearly bricking it,” Vincent responds.

“No shit,” Draco nearly yells.

Vincent holds his hands up, palms facing Draco, in surrender. “Have you told your parents?”

“I told them that I was staying with the Potters for a while over holiday but not that I’m dating him. I just received this letter in response from Mother,” he nods his head to the letter beside his cup of pumpkin juice; Greg snatches it. 

“Oh shit,” he says. 

“Oh shit, indeed,” Pansy repeats after the letter has been passed around, each person wincing in sympathy. “So, you’re going to skip the Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson family Yule parties?”

“I hadn’t thought about that, but yes, I guess I will.”

“This is what I was worried about when you started dating Potter! I knew you’d do things like this! How can you miss them? They’re tradition,” Pansy says harshly. 

“Yes, well, get yourself a boyfriend like Potter and you’d understand why I would want to spend Yuletide with him,” Draco responds, pasting the nastiest scowl he can manage onto his face.

“Is it really so wrong for us to want you at the parties? We always have so much fun at them.” Draco turns to Blaise, about to fuss about betrayal and whatnot, but pauses at Blaise’s expression. 

“No, not at all. I understand. Can I just see what he has planned first?”

Blaise groans, “Which means you aren’t going. You’re so afraid of all of us interacting with him.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Don’t be so dramatic? Are you serious? When Potter wanted to sit with you in Charms you told him no because Pansy and Theo were sitting with you. There was no one else in that classroom that you would want to sit beside and the only other person who didn’t have a seat was Demelza Robins. You just didn’t want him to have to sit beside your friends.”

Draco throws his hands in the air and exclaims, “Where the fuck is this coming from? Since when do you all want to be friends with Harry Potter? You guys didn’t talk to me for three days once I told you that we were together!”

“You didn’t even tell us, Draco. I heard Luna telling Granger that she really felt like you and him would last a long time. When I confronted you about it you denied it and didn’t admit it until three days later,” Pansy says, hurt and anger present in her voice.

Draco takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He knows that when he gets overwhelmed he acts like he’s backed into a corner and that really won’t help right now. It isn’t like he’s trying to live two separate lives, for fucks sake. His friends have never wanted to interact with Harry or his friends, so why are they so annoyed? He didn’t tell them about Harry because it meant admitting that his whole belief system, the same belief system that his friends have, was one big lie and he wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready for all the questions that would come along.

When he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Pansy. She’s been his friend since he was in diapers, she loves him, even if the only time she says those three words back is when they’re dripping with sarcasm. Knowing that makes his answer not as cutting, not as brutal as he wants it to be. 

“You guys are acting like this is easy. There is a lot of history between the Malfoy and Potter family. That history extends to other families, like the Longbottoms, Blacks, and Lupins. You’re also ignoring the fact that this is not a straight relationship. We are two men. I come from a family that expects me to carry on our name.”

“Oh, don’t even,” Theo says, “That doesn’t excuse you choosing him over us every time.” With that, Theo gets up from the table, effectively ending the conversation. The heels of his leather boots are loud as he walks away. Pansy and Blaise follow, their heels making the clacking even louder. 

Draco tips his head back and groans. “Fuck.”

-

Draco doesn’t want to ride the Hogwarts Express with Weasley and Granger, but he wants to ride it with Harry, so he has to make sacrifices. 

Granger is nice enough, but she remembers when he called her foul names and he remembers when she punched him, so it makes for awkward and tense conversation.

Weasley, on the other hand, never passes up an opportunity to insult Draco.

“Ferret,” Weasley greets as Draco gets in the compartment Harry is in. 

“Weasel. Granger,” he responds after plopping down beside Harry and bumping Harry’s shoulder with his own. 

“You’re not sitting here the whole ride back, are you?”

Draco doesn’t respond to Ron because Harry’s got his mouth on his forehead, peppering kisses in between, “My parents said they can’t wait to meet you.” He can faintly hear gagging in the background, but his mind is too focused on what Harry’s saying to take notice.

He whispers, “Really?”

“Really,” Harry responds, grinning wide.

Draco lets out a deep breath. “Okay. Good. Okay, good. This might work.”

Harry chuckles, “This will work.”

-  
Saying goodbye to Harry is hard. They do it in the compartment after Weasley and Granger have said their goodbyes. It’s all kisses and “See you soon,” and “I love you.”

Harry lets him leave first, only after another long and soft kiss.

Draco’s parents are waiting. Lucius looks impatient and Narcissa looks like the role model for class and good mother, but even so Draco knows when they spot him because their faces light up and they rush to him. They somehow make their fast-paced walk look graceful. 

When they meet in the middle, Draco immediately falls into his mother’s arms. His father stands over them awkwardly but smiles down at Draco when he detaches from his mother. It makes him realize just how much he’s missed them, which makes him feel guilty. He knows his parents have awful, intolerant, and wrong ideologies that they stand firmly behind. He knows his father has meetings with other horrid wizards about uprisings and yet he still loves his father, still looks up to him. It fucks with his head.

“Let’s go home, darling,” his mother says in her soft voice. He loves to listen to her talk. Unlike his own, her voice never shakes. 

“Yes, Mother.”

-

His mother waits until an hour after he has arrived home to question his holiday plans. 

“You can’t possibly be serious,” she says after he restates everything he wrote in the letter he sent her.

“I am serious, Mother.” He can’t help the way he says it, like he’s still waiting for her approval, when he’s not. He’s going to Harry’s with or without her consent. 

“The Potters?”

“Yes, Mother.”

She’s silent for a while. Then, “You know our families don’t get along.”

“I know that you and Father do not get along with James and Lily, but I get along with Harry. He’s asked that I spend part of the holiday with him.”

“You’re going to miss the parties. Those are tradition.”

“I’m going to try to make them.”

She hums in response. After a long pause that makes him start to get fidgety (which he knows is her goal), she says, “You have to tell your father. I’m not doing it. You will tell him at dinner tonight, after he’s finished eating.”

“Merlin,” Draco groans. She only smirks.

-

Draco’s stalling. He knows how improper it is for him to be messing with his hair at the table, but it’s a nervous twitch, something both his parents are well aware of.

“Out with it, Draco,” his father scolds.

In one big breath he says, “I plan to spend part of the Christmas holiday at the Potter residence in Godric’s Hollow.”

There’s silence. 

And then there’s rage. Lucius slams his fist on the table, clanking the silverware and plates together. His wine spills. Draco and his mother flinch. 

“Do I need to remind you of everything the Potters have ruined for our family? Have you forgotten the differences between the Malfoys and them? James and Lily Potter have made their home a sanctuary for the impure and you want to stay there?” He pauses like he expects an answer, but Draco knows better. 

“And that Lupin! He’ll be there! Are you going to disregard everything I’ve said about him? Are you going to ignore that all of them have tried to send me to Azkaban?”

Chest heaving, Lucius gets up from the table. “Figure out your loyalties, Draco,” he spits as he walks out of the room.

Draco looks down at his plate. A bite of steak is still there.

“Don’t forget that our Yule Festival is on Christmas Eve,” his mother says, exiting the room like nothing happened at all. 

 

Draco wants to scream, wants to put up a fight, take out all of his frustration that has been building since Harry said he wanted a meet-the-parents-Christmas on the fancy glass china in front of him, but he doesn’t. He takes a deep breath, gently removes the napkin from his lap, and walks to his room. 

-

No one mentions the Potters again. Draco helps his mother with the planning of their Christmas Eve party. He knows that the families pick the date of their Yule parties long in advance, but he still feels like it’s all deliberate punishment. 

He goes to the Parkinson Yule Festival on the twenty-third, still not sure what to do. Pansy tells him to buck up and Owl Potter, so he does. 

The Malfoy Family Yule Festival is being held on Christmas Eve. What is the latest time I can arrive at your home? I’ll be there an hour before then. I can’t wait to see you. I feel like I’m going crazy.  
With all my love,  
Yours.

Harry’s response comes right before he leaves Parkinson Park.

Eight, maybe?  
I miss you so much. Can’t wait to hold you.  
Yours.  
-

Draco wakes up Christmas Eve with so much anxiety he doesn’t get out of the bed for two hours. By the time he comes downstairs, the house elves have started preparing lunch. He only gets out of bed because they’ve spelled the aroma of garlic bread to creep through the cracks of his door. A clear, “Get up,” from house elves expecting the food they prepared to be ate. 

When he moves it’s like a fifty-pound rope has wrapped itself around his shoulders, forcing him to walk as if he’s trudging through mud. He wants to be excited that he’s seeing Harry, but the blowout he expects from his father and the nerves he gets every time he remembers that he’ll be meeting James and Lily Potter and probably Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, too, make him want to bury his head in the mud he’s walking through. 

His parents are already at the table when he gets there. His father shoots him an angry look. “You know breakfast is at eight.”

“I haven’t had an appetite until now.” That’s a lie. Draco still doesn’t feel like eating, but nothing gets his stomach rumbling like the smell of garlic bread. 

His mother pastes on a concerned look. “What’s wrong, dear?”

It’s not like he’s aiming to be hateful, but he’s stressed, so it just all comes out. “I plan to spend Christmas with the Potter family and I’ve never met Harry’s parents before so I’m nervous about that because I’ve always believed that they’re awful people, but they can’t be that bad when their son is one of the best people I know. Remus Lupin will be there and in school my father beat him up so bad that he was admitted to St. Mungo’s and our families hold grudges that last centuries, so how is he going to react to seeing me? Sirius Black, my wayward cousin, will undoubtedly be there and all I’ve ever heard about him is that he’s a stain on the Black legacy. And then, to top it all off, my parents do not want me to go there for Christmas, which means I will be making them unhappy as I go, because I am absolutely going.”

“Draco, please,” his mother responds before his father can say anything. “Just go back to your room. The party starts at six. Be dressed and downstairs.”

Unlike the dinner they had previously, where he told his father where he planned to be for Yuletide, he gets up without any gentleness, banging his knee on the table and clattering the silverware without any semblance of Malfoy class.

He slams the door to his room, plops down on his bed face-forward, and groans loudly into the mattress. He inhales the comforting scent of pine and sage, reminding him of Pansy.

When they were old enough to learn how to perform the magic, Pansy charmed one of his rings and one of hers to alert the other when they wanted their presence. All it takes is kissing the ring and that’s exactly what he does. 

It only takes her twenty-five minutes to alohomora his door. 

“Impressive,” he says in greeting.

“When am I not?” She takes off her black heels, flattens down her dress, and wraps herself around him. “What’s wrong?”

He sighs and leans his head on her neck. “Is it bad that sometimes I wish I could go back to when it was so black and white for me? When those who aren’t purebloods were clearly beneath me and I never wanted to interact with Harry?”

“You don’t truly want that though and that’s what counts. You know better. You’ve grown up and you’ve fallen in love with Harry Potter.”

“Yeah, but…my parents.”

“Your parents are your parents. You’re always going to love them and want to please them, but you have to stick up for what’s right. Draco Malfoy stopped being a coward a long time ago.”

That makes him smile. He has grown, and he likes who he is now much better than who he was before. “I don’t want to go back.”

“You aren’t going to.”

They sit silently for a while. He interrupts the silence to say, “Do you really think I’m trying to live two separate lives?”

Pansy sighs. “No one said that, Draco. All Blaise said was that you don’t want us interacting with Potter.” 

“Is that not the same thing?”

“No, it isn’t. But you are a Slytherin and Malfoy dating the most Gryffindor boy to ever exist and when I see you with him it’s like you’re not yourself. You try to change who you are, the friends you have, the culture you’ve grown up in. Maybe you should embrace all of that instead of trying to separate it.”

“So… I am trying to live two separate lives?”

She disentangles herself from him. “Oh, for fucks sake, Draco. Yes!”

“Oh.”

“I’ve gotten a headache now, let’s lie down.” That’s Pansy’s way of letting him know that she’s not truly mad at him, that even though he’s done something wrong she still wants to be near him. It’s also a way to get him to shut up.

They get under the covers and she lays her arm out for him to curl into. For a few moments, he lets himself be content.

-

Parties hosted by Pureblood families are tense until the first person inevitably gets drunk. Nicola Elvgren gets the honour tonight. She’s drunk before it even hits six-thirty, spilling her Pinot Noir onto the hardwood floor. Draco keeps trying to discreetly spell the floor clean, but she just makes more of a mess five minutes later. 

Ten minutes before seven, he kisses Pansy’s cheek goodbye, ignoring the look his parents give him, and apparates outside of Harry’s house. He’s got his luggage under reducio and in his robe pocket. The lamplight outside of Harry’s house illuminates him enough that if anyone was to look out the window they would clearly see him stalling and breathing deeply, but that doesn’t give him anymore of a push to go up the driveway and knock on the door. Neither does his absolute need to be on time. He just absorbs the panic that gives him and lets it manifest as panic over meeting Harry’s family. 

At exactly seven, Draco sees Harry look out the window. He knows the moment Harry’s spotted him because he jumps up a little and then runs out the door to Draco. Draco can faintly hear laughing coming from inside as the door opens. 

Harry doesn’t hesitate to wrap Draco in a bone-crushing hug, pressing kisses into Draco’s neck at the same time. Draco lets himself feel the happiness that being in Harry’s arms gives him, the joy that receiving kisses from Harry’s soft, wet lips brings. 

Draco looks back up at Harry’s house and sees four people attempting to be discreet at watching them through the opened door. “Harry, we’re being watched,” Draco murmurs. 

Harry just laughs into Draco’s neck.

“Really Harry.”

“Relax, darling. They don’t care. I get it from them. I missed you so much.”

If Draco wasn’t so bone-deep stressed he would have said something witty like, “It hasn’t even been a week,” but instead he hums, and says, “I missed you too.”

“Are you ready? It’s very chilly outside and I was in too much of a hurry to put on a coat,” Harry smiles up at Draco. 

Draco wants to be able to return his smile, wants to be excited for the next step in their relationship that they’re about to face, but he can’t be. He paws at his own face and says, “Merlin, I’m so dramatic.”

“I think it’s a Black thing. Sirius is the most dramatic person I know,” Harry jokes.

“Father is pretty dramatic, too. I guess I get it from both sides.” 

Draco lets Harry grab his hand and walk him up the driveway. At some point, Harry’s family went back inside. Before they walk in the house Harry whispers, “They’re not going to think about how you’re a Malfoy. They’re going to think about how happy you make me, how I love you and you love me. Let them see the you that I love.”

Draco doesn’t know why he says it, but he hears the, “What if you don’t know the real me?” come out of his mouth before he even processes that he’s thought it. 

Harry gives him a strange look, squeezes his hand, and gently pulls Draco into the house. 

The first thing Draco notices is that the whole house smells like Cajun spices. That’s something so different from the Malfoy Manor that he blurts out, “It smells good in here.”

Draco can pinpoint who James Potter is as soon as he walks into the room. He’s a taller, older, and hazel eyed version of Harry. It’s easy to tell who Lily is too since his father always made jokes about how she must have been a Weasley with her red hair.

Mr. Potter chuckles and says, “I made Cajun chicken for dinner. Harry said you were going to eat dinner at your house. Is that true?”

“Yes. We had a Christmas Eve Festival, so there were lots to eat. I’m quite full.” He hopes they can’t hear his voice shake. 

“Hopefully not too full. Christmas Eve tradition is to bake as much as we can. There’s homemade Jaffa cakes, egg custard tarts, and Cornish pasties in the kitchen,” Mrs. Potter says. “We’ve been waiting for you to begin eating them.”

Just then, Sirius Black walks in the room, trailed by Remus Lupin. “Cousin,” he says.

Draco nods. “Hello.”

Remus is the first one of everyone in the house to extend his hand. Draco takes it. He’s got a small platter of sweets in the other hand. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Remus,” he says. It’s like because Remus did it, everyone else remembers to shake hands and introduce themselves to Draco. He still hasn’t let go of Harry’s hand, though. 

After the pleasantries are over, they all move to sit down on the couch in the living room. Everyone takes a dessert from the platter Remus places on the table in front of the couch. 

Mrs. Potter is the first to say something. “Harry’s told us a lot about you, Draco. Is it true that your second in your class in all subjects?”

Draco blushes. When he was younger, the fact that Granger beat him in every subject sparked strong hatred in him, but now it’s a little more subdued. He doesn’t hate her for it, at least, but it would be nice to be the highest in something. 

“If Hermione would just…take a week off, I would be the highest in Potions.” He’s much better than her in potions naturally, but she compensates for it by studying harder. 

“Ron’s been trying to get her to take just a day off since he met her, and she hasn’t. Good luck with that,” Harry smiles. 

Draco sees Mr. and Mrs. Potter look at each other and smile.

Mr. Potter faces Draco again and asks, “Is Potions something you would want to go farther with after Hogwarts?”

“I’d like to be a Healer, actually.”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Mrs. Potter says. Draco realizes that Harry has her smile. “Harry hasn’t made up what he wants to do yet. Which is alright, darling, no rush, but maybe you can help him?”

“Certainly.”

“Before we let you go upstairs and unpack, I wanted to mention that tomorrow the Longbottoms are having brunch at their house and Sirius and Remus are cooking dinner at the Black family home. Draco, you’re invited to each one of those. Harry, you’re not required to go to the brunch, so if you want to sleep in that’s fine, but we will be going to dinner. We are going over there early to help, but you can arrive at the same time as the other guests. Be there at six. No later than six-fifteen, alright?”

“If you want to bring some of your friends, that’s alright with us, Draco,” Remus includes. 

“Thank you,” Draco replies. 

With that, Harry gets up from the couch and tugs Draco upstairs and into his room. Draco takes a moment to look around. Harry’s got clean, white walls, one poster in the center of each wall, and tons of photos taped around them. There’s an ugly black and white rug on the floor. His bedside table has a pink potted African violet that hasn’t bloomed, a water bottle, and a burning candle. The candle makes the room smell like mint and lemongrass. His bed is unmade, light blue sheets thrown haphazardly. 

It isn’t until he hears the click of the door locking and feels Harry’s hands rubbing up and down his arms that he lets himself relax. With a long exhale, he lets his shoulders drop, releasing the tension they held in them. 

“That wasn’t so hard, right? They weren’t unbearable?”

“No, not too bad,” Draco agrees.

“See. Even Sirius was nice.”

“I was more scared of Remus.”

“Why Remus?”

“Father put him in St. Mungo’s once. Right after he was outed as gay. Him, Greg’s father, Vincent’s father, and Theo’s saw him walking in the halls after hours. They left him there. McGonagall found him two hours later,” Draco tells the story quietly, like if he says it above a whisper everything around him will shatter and he’ll find himself back in Malfoy Manor. 

Harry does the unthinkable. He asks, “Are you afraid of how he’ll react when you tell him you’re gay?”  
They haven’t talked about that. When Draco’s parents are brought up, he usually does everything he can to change the subject. Harry knows Malfoy talk makes him uncomfortable, so he also avoids it. 

“Of course, I am. He nearly killed someone after finding out they were gay.”

Harry moves from behind Draco and sits on his bed. He holds his hand out for Draco to join him. When Draco follows him into bed he asks, “Would you mind if we stayed here instead of going to brunch tomorrow?”

Draco smiles and shakes his head. 

“Do you want to invite anyone to Sirius and Remus’ party?”

The smile slides off Draco’s face. He shakes his head again. 

Harry freezes and then nods slowly.

That’s when it hits Draco that what Pansy said was true and even Harry agrees. Draco’s been trying to distract Harry from the fact that he’s got Slytherin friends, that Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Vincent, and Greg are people that he loves, too. In that moment, he realizes that Harry’s been giving him opportunities to include his friends and isn’t asking for him to keep them separate. 

“Draco, I have something to tell you,” Harry says, making Draco’s stomach drop. “I’ve been talking to Pansy. About you. I needed help with your Christmas present, you know how bad I am at presents, and I mentioned how I would love it if her and the rest of your friends hung out with us, like how my friends do. She said that you wouldn’t like that, that you wanted to keep your friends and your boyfriend away from each other. Have I done something wrong? Have I made you feel like you can’t bring your friends around?”

“Was that when I caught you in the Slytherin common room?”

“Yes.”

Draco remembers that, remembers assuming that Pansy was trying to start something. He was furious with her but trying to control it while Harry was around. 

“Harry…” he starts but trails off. How do you explain that this is what you’ve assumed was necessary? How do begin to tell your boyfriend that you thought this was right, what was going to help make the relationship work? He assumed so many things about Harry and now he has to admit that. 

Draco gulps and then tries again. “Slytherins and Gryffindors don’t get along. Malfoys and Potters don’t get along. My last name stands for everything the Potters are against. The same goes for my friends. How was I supposed to just ignore that? My father has fought his whole life to upset your family in some way. He’s called your mother foul names, called the family of both of your best friends awful names. I had the same view as him, and so did my friends. Slytherin house is full of the children of purebloods my father interacts with. You’re perfect, Harry. You’ve always fought alongside your parents for the betterment of all wizards and creatures. My friends and I have never done that.”

Harry turns to face Draco. “You’ve got a lot of internalized hatred for yourself, you know that?”

Draco responds with a blank look.

“You need to forgive yourself for everything you’ve done in the past. You were surrounded by people who believed differently than you do now your whole childhood. That means you’re going to have those beliefs until you actively work to change them, and that’s alright. As long as you grow, you don’t stay a bad person. You are a good person, Draco.”

Draco’s face is hot and his eyes are stinging. He tugs at his hair until Harry grabs his hand and pulls it down into his lap. 

“Invite your friends to the Black house,” Harry asserts, leaving no room for Draco to protest. He summons parchment and a quill from his desk, then grabs a book from the hanging bookshelf over their heads for Draco to write on top of. 

Draco writes a letter to Blaise, Theo, Pansy, Greg, and Vincent. 

You are invited to the Yule Dinner Party at the Black Family Estate, starting at six in the evening tomorrow. The Goyle Yule Festival starts an hour later. Please come, even if it is only for an hour.  
I want to make this right.  
Draco.

He lets Harry include the address and all the specific details to getting in the Black Estate at the bottom of the parchment. Harry runs downstairs and asks if he can borrow his parent’s owls. They give him permission, so Draco gives Hedwig Theo and Pansy’s, Greg and Vincent’s to one of the owls Harry brings up, and Blaise’s to the other. 

“I’m sorry,” Draco tells Harry when the last owl has left his room. 

“I’m not holding it against you, baby. I understand.” Harry softly pushes on Draco until he’s lying on his side. Strong arms wrap around him, just above his waist. Draco feels Harry kiss down his spine, the murmured, “Relax,” and their legs intertwining. 

“Let me take care of you,” Harry whispers, leaning over Draco’s stomach to look up at his face.

Draco exhales in relief and bends down to kiss Harry. He makes it easy to let go, he thinks. 

-

The Potters open presents in the little sliver of time after the Longbottom Brunch and before the Black dinner. After the first two gifts, it feels so intrusive that Draco taps Harry and tells him that he’s gonna apparate back home to give his parents their gifts. Harry frowns, but kisses him bye. The Potters, Sirius, Remus, and even Peter Pettigrew on something called Facetime, say goodbye. Mrs. Potter gives him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Be safe,” she whispers in his ear. 

He apparates right into his room, grabs his parents’ presents and then walks downstairs. He finds his mother in the sitting room where they keep the Christmas tree and his father in his study. His mother doesn’t act surprised to see him. 

“I’ve brought you your presents,” he announces in greeting. 

His father looks like he’s tasted a sour lemon the whole time they exchange and unwrap gifts, but he doesn’t say anything. Narcissa makes all the right noises to signal her pleasure at her gifts. Draco receives a new suit and a matching robe, an array of healing salts, a book of poems, black and white candles, dragon’s blood, natural and tumbled rose quartz, socks, a clear quartz point, bottle of rose petals, and another bottle of lavender. He thanks his parents, looks around the room awkwardly, and then says, “I best be getting back.”

Before he can pull his wand out, his father questions him. “Why is it that you want to spend so much time with Harry Potter?”

He gulps and reaches up to tug on his hair, but his father grabs his wrist before he can. “Answer me, Draco.”

“I’m gay,” he whispers, barely audible, even in the complete silence that he’s found himself in.

His father drops Draco’s wrist out of his hand like it's poison. “He’s corrupted you.”

Laughing wetly, without any real emotion, he responds, “No. I knew before him.”

“Don’t you know what happens to those who are gay? Don’t you know what will happen to the Malfoy line if you keep this up?”

Draco shrugs.

Lucius growls, and flings himself so close to Draco he can feel his breath on his face. “Do not go back.”

Taking a step back, he says goodbye and apparates back to the Potter house. 

-

Grimmauld Place is nothing like Draco remembers it being. Great Aunt Walburga kept it dark and damp, the exact opposite to how it is now. 

When it turns six-thirty, Draco assumes that his friends aren’t coming. He’s alright with that, a little disappointed, but fine. 

At six-forty, he hears the doorbell ring. Mr. Potter lets a sheepish Blaise, Pansy, and Theo in. They reek of fake confidence and different upbringing, but Mr. Potter greets them like he can’t tell. Pansy spots Draco first and walks right over, interrupting Hermione and Ron’s bickering as she passes by. Blaise and Theo continue to talk to Mr. Potter, their fake confidence replaced by genuine confusion. 

“Vincent and Greg refused to come. We told them we’d be at Greg’s house at eight,” Pansy asserts. 

“Okay,” Draco responds. “Thank you for coming, even if you are really late.”

She smirks, “We wanted you to squirm.” 

Draco laughs and then hugs her, letting himself be comforted by her signature smell of smoke and sage. 

-

The party goes well. Pansy, Blaise, and Theo mingle, even if they are stiff and reserved. Harry has a hold on him for most of the night, introducing him to all of the people there who went to school with both of their parents, the people who make his father’s nose twitch in disgust. Draco loves it. 

When his friends leave right before eight, they’ve gained enough confidence to give everyone their thanks and goodbyes. Draco walks them outside and apologizes to each of them. “I promise to be different. I didn’t realize how much I was taking you all for granted and I’m sorry for that. You’ve been my friends for as long as I can remember. I’m not ashamed to be your friend. I’m proud to know you.”

Theo mockingly coos and Blaise reaches over to plant a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek. 

“Everything is going to be just fine,” Blaise says. 

-

Two days later, Remus confronts Draco. Everyone else is in the kitchen making Shrimp Lo Mein for dinner. Draco isn’t allowed to help since he’s a guest and Remus apparently has almost burned down the house helping before. “He’s a disaster gay,” Sirius had said, looking at Remus fondly. 

“Draco,” Remus starts. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Draco flinches. “I know...but, I feel guilty,” he admits, expecting Remus not to know what he’s referring to, but Remus just looks at him knowingly.

“You can’t control the past. You weren’t even born.”

“But I’m alive now and Father hasn’t changed. He’d do it again.”

“That isn’t your fault. You wouldn’t do it.”

“Yes, but…” Draco hears the whine in his voice, so he clears his throat. 

“But nothing. Your father’s actions are not yours to bear. Let go.”

Draco runs his hands through his hair, messing up the Sleekeazy’s in it. “Alright,” he replies. 

“Good.”

-

The day before Draco is supposed to go back to the Manor, he receives an Owl from his mother. 

My son,  
I do not think it would be wise for you to come back to the Manor before school starts. I will arrange for more clothes to be sent to you.  
It is important for you to live your most authentic life. That doesn’t change that an heir is expected of you.  
With all my love,  
Mother

Draco doesn’t know how to react to that, so he just gives it to Harry, who wraps him up in a hug after he’s finished reading it. He mumbles apologies into Draco’s hair, but that doesn’t change the heartbreaking pain and confusion he feels. 

Mrs. Potter walks in on them like that. “Do you mind if I read that?”

Draco shakes his head, so Harry hands it to her. 

When she’s finished reading it she simply states, “You can stay for as long as you need to, Draco.”

Her words, even though they’re meant to be comforting, feel like daggers being pressed into his stomach. It becomes hard for him to get air in his lungs and he hears himself gasp. “This is so embarrassing,” he manages to choke out.

“No, love, you get to react however you want. This is a lot,” Mrs. Potter replies. 

His choking subsides after a little while. He notices his cheeks are wet. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Harry says. “Why don’t we go upstairs and lie down?”

Draco lets himself be pulled up from the couch and dragged upstairs. Harry tucks him in bed and then crawls in beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Draco answers. “Can we just...can you hold me while I sleep?”

Harry does, pressing a kiss to Draco’s hair. 

Even though he’s just been told not to come home, even though he knows how angry his father is, and even though his mother still expects him to marry unhappy, he manages to find contentment inside himself, enough that reminds him that he’s connected his two worlds - his friends and his boyfriend - and can start living how he wants to. He’s got the approval of tons of Gryffindors and his Slytherin friends. He’s becoming a version of himself that he actually likes. 

This isn’t how he expected his life to be, but it’s one that feels authentic, and that’s all he can ask for.


End file.
